


Herdaya

by wheel_pen



Series: Darkwood Eastport [24]
Category: Lie to Me (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fish out of Water, Magic, Polygamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:32:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3633399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gillian is called to the sheriff’s office when Luke gets into a fight with another boy—and learns that not only are Luke and Emma, the sheriff’s daughter, “soulmates” according to Darkwood tradition, they’ve also made a serious commitment towards their future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Herdaya

**Author's Note:**

> The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe. I’ve given a lot of thought to the Darkwood culture, so if something seems confusing, feel free to ask. I hope you enjoy!

_Year 3, ~April_

Gillian was no slouch in the observation department. She wasn’t flashy about it like Cal was—she felt stealth and discretion were better tools—but she knew as soon as she stepped into the Eastport police station that Emma Burke was a girl with something to hide.

Emma was barely sixteen, pleasant if a bit shy, good at school, and friends with the similarly circumspect Anna. But she might also be better friends with Luke, considering how much time they spent pouring over books in the library together. Cal didn’t think it was anything to worry about—Alice, after all, had abandoned her infatuation with Mike Newton when she started driving to college regularly, and she seemed none the worse for wear. Gillian wasn’t so sure. And looking at Emma now, sitting behind her father’s desk folding and unfolding a scrap of paper while biting her lip, Gillian felt she wasn’t looking at a girl concerned about a mere friend.

Well, Emma was part of it. But it also mattered what Luke felt about it. And that Gillian couldn’t discover without venturing further into the police station, per her summons.

She stopped in front of the girl, as though she hadn’t seen the dry-witted deputy at the opposite desk. “Emma, is Luke here? Is he alright? Do you know what’s going on?” She tried to phrase her questions like a concerned mother—which didn’t take too much acting—but watched the answers flicker across the girl’s face as she would with one of her clients. They were, as suspected, yes, yes, and yes, with a healthy dose of apprehension and embarrassment. Interesting.

“Sheriff’s in room one over there, ma’am,” Floyd the deputy cut in before Emma was forced to answer verbally. “You can go on in.”

“Thank you, Deputy.” Gillian took a few steps across the small office and found herself at the outer door of room one—there were only _two_ such rooms in the whole station. Nonetheless this was time enough for Gillian to realize she hadn’t seen anything like _shame_ on the girl’s face.

The sheriff met her at the door, looking mildly exasperated. “Sorry to call you out of work, Dr. Gillian, but these two got into a scrap behind the wrong person’s house, and I had to bring ‘em in.” He nodded his head towards the two teenage boys who sat sullenly at a table on the other side of the two-way mirror, one of whom was her son.

“Who’s the other boy?” Gillian questioned curiously.

“Brandon Masterson,” Sheriff Burke told her. “Local kid, mom works at the First National. Not usually any trouble.”

Neither was Luke, but Gillian didn’t take offense that he’d left that bit out. “I assume no one was injured,” she commented, as she would have just met them at the hospital in that case. But the mother in her overcame the rational observer for a moment.

“Nah, nothing serious,” the sheriff confirmed. “I gave ‘em the big talk about not losing their tempers and learning to walk away no matter what someone says to you, someone could’ve been hurt, that kind of thing, but I don’t see any reason to keep Luke here if you want to take him home.”

“Thank you, Sheriff, I’m sure his father will have _plenty_ to say to him tonight,” Gillian replied with a small smile, and the sheriff nodded knowingly. “Do you have any idea what caused the fight?” Not that Luke was any more trouble at home than he was in town, normally; but he had a lot of Cal’s volatility in him, only without the maturity to restrain it (unfortunately _Cal_ didn’t have that much maturity, either). Gillian was certainly _less_ surprised to get this kind of call about Luke than she would have been with some of the other children.

The sheriff shrugged as though he didn’t consider the fight’s genesis to be particularly important—it probably wasn’t, in his experience. “Oh, something about a girl, I think—I guess Luke took exception to something Brandon said about his girlfriend, or some girl he likes anyway. Old story.” He fixed her with a curious gaze. “You guys don’t have some kind of tradition about that, do you? That you gotta kill the person who insulted your girlfriend?”

“No tradition,” Gillian assured him. “It varies by personality, though.” She assumed the girl in question was Emma; she also realized that Sheriff Burke didn’t _know_ the girl in question was his daughter, or that she had some stronger connection to Luke beyond ‘friends.’ Well, Gillian certainly wasn’t going to get the two teenagers in further trouble by revealing their secret; Sheriff Burke was remarkably like Cal in the punitive interest he took in his daughters’ boyfriends. But if the situation was serious enough to get in a fistfight about, there was _definitely_ going to be a discussion at home later. One just couldn’t go around getting into fistfights, after all, not when they were all trying to be good citizens.

The sheriff stuck his head back into the other room and summoned Luke, who appeared more pensive than embarrassed or upset. Sheriff Burke took Luke’s place at the table with Brandon, shutting the door in between to give the Orange Lights some privacy. If Luke had been chastened and sheepish, Gillian suddenly decided, she would’ve assured him it was okay and taken him home right away. But even when he looked up at her he didn’t seem to recognize that he’d done anything wrong, which, illogically, made Gillian want to increase his punishment.

“Luke, what were you thinking, getting into a _fight_?” she demanded in the Common Tongue, though she knew the question was a pointless one.

“That guy’s just a jerk, Mum,” Luke replied, as though it should be obvious. “He said something _really_ horrible about, er, the sheriff’s daughter.”

Gillian almost smirked, seeing how her son wanted to avoid mentioning Emma’s name in this context, even though her father was on the other side of a more or less soundproofed wall. “You mean your _girlfriend_?” The look on his face confirmed her theory, but there was also something else in the expression that startled her. “Guilt,” Gillian identified sharply. Not about the fight. About Emma being his girlfriend. “She seems like a nice girl,” she tried, gauging his reaction. “If you two are becoming… close, you should invite her over for dinner sometime.” Another twist of expression she didn’t like. “Just how close _are_ you two?”

Luke took his mother’s implication immediately and turned bright red. “No, Mum, it’s nothing like _that_!”

Gillian believed him. She hadn’t really been worried about that anyway. But her questions were still unanswered. “Then what _exactly_ is it like?” she insisted.

Now he was nervous. “Mum, could we go home and talk about this?” the teenager pleaded, though that activity was clearly not high on his list of enjoyments. “Only I have to talk to _her_ first.”

Gillian had been a teenager in love once, but an atypical one; Luke hadn’t experienced half the things she had by the time she was his age, for which she was profoundly grateful. But it also meant she didn’t _really_ understand his position right now. She could at least empathize with the general situation, though. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea right now, honey,” she replied in a softer tone. “I think her father’s going to be pretty upset if she’s connected to all this. You should wait a few days, let it blow over, before you—“

“Mum, I can’t wait,” Luke interrupted, and though he sounded desperate, there was a certain depth to it that Gillian recognized. “I need to talk to her. I need to make sure she’s okay.” He sounded like a boy—a man?—who knew his limits, and had reached them.

Gillian gestured for him to go ahead and he headed for the hallway with a kind of stilted walk, like he wanted to run but was trying to restrain himself. Gillian hung back, letting him have a moment with Emma without her hovering; but when she finally followed she saw the deputy gawking at them and knew their secret had been discovered. Not that the two teenagers were doing anything especially gawk-worthy—they weren’t even _touching_. But the energy that crackled between them, the intensity of the gaze they shared, was impossible for even a casual observer to miss. Even if they didn’t understand what it really _meant_.

“You’re _herdaya_ ,” Gillian blurted, without thinking. But this did not come as a surprise to either teenager. “You know already. Did the servants tell you?” The answer was yes, she saw; but she also saw trepidation in their expressions. Relieved that she finally understood what was going on, Gillian smiled at them reassuringly. “It’s fine—it’s wonderful, actually! Don’t be worried, it’s perfectly understandable that you would want to defend her—although you _really_ need to control your temper,” she chastised, “because worse things than this will happen and you can’t go around—“ She broke off, looking at their faces. “What else is there?”

The impulse to lie, or at least minimize, flickered across Luke’s face, but he knew better than to follow it. Before he could reply, however, Emma surprised them both by cutting him off. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Gillian! It’s all my fault.”

“Don’t be silly, of course it isn’t,” Luke countered soothingly. Gillian was at once proud and disturbed to hear how adult he sounded.

“Are you talking about the fight?” Gillian probed in confusion. They weren’t. “What, then?” More furtive glances. Gillian’s patience, usually so reliable, was rapidly evaporating. “Luke, you had better explain exactly what’s going on here. Before I get _your_ father involved.”

That threat proved sufficiently motivating. “Emma and I are _promised_ ,” Luke said immediately.

There was a very long silence as Gillian’s mind raced. “You—can’t—be,” she started slowly, a ludicrous opening. “Who would—how would you—You don’t mean _really_ promised,” she tried hopefully. “You just mean you agreed between the two of you.” No, they didn’t mean that. “You did the actual ceremony? Where would you have _done_ it?!” she demanded, confounded. “Whose land did you do it on?” Who hadn’t told Cal and Gillian about it immediately afterwards, let alone _before_.

“Ours,” Luke confessed.

“That’s impossible,” Gillian countered, though she could see he wasn’t lying. “You can’t have done it on our land, we would’ve been told!”

“I asked the servants not to,” Luke revealed, guiltily.

“You’re a minor! They aren’t supposed to listen to you!” But obviously they had. There was probably some obscure sub-guideline somewhere that Luke and Emma had tripped, which a servant was going to explain to a fuming Cal and Gillian later that night in a bland and uncaring tone. She took a deep breath and let it out, calming herself. “Who were your witnesses?” At least one had to be Darkwood, and when she found out their name—

“My cousin Tammy, who lives in Calais,” Emma answered hesitantly. “She’s twenty-two.”

So that was Emma’s. Gillian turned her gaze on her son, almost daring him to come up with a Darkwood member who would participate in such a secretive, underhanded situation—“Jacob,” Luke answered, more afraid for his brother for a second than for himself.

Of course. Of course. It all made perfect sense, really. Jacob would be just about the _only_ person willing to defy Cal, especially for a romantic notion, and then he just hopped on his ship and sailed away before he had to face any consequences. Of course, that also meant this had all happened—

“You’ve been promised for a _month_?!” Gillian realized.

Luke nodded. “Since just after Emma’s birthday.”

Gillian looked at them both, seeing the uncertainty in their faces about many things—but not about their feelings for each other. That much was obvious, when their gazes drifted to each other in the silence. _Herdaya_ _and_ promised—all in one day, at least from Gillian’s perspective. It wasn’t so much the _herdaya_ bit—it was wonderful that they had made that connection, really, and anyway they couldn’t help what they felt. But to go and get promised, without even telling their parents--! It just didn’t seem necessary to Gillian, and it was going to cause _far_ more problems than it was worth, in her opinion.

She sighed. “Well, we’d better get your father over here and tell him,” she decided, reaching for her cell phone. “And Emma, we need to tell _your_ father as well.”

“Tell me what?” Sheriff Burke asked suspiciously, appearing at the just the right (or was it the wrong?) moment.

Gillian hesitated. A professional matter was one thing, but now that this had moved into the personal realm, it should really be discussed by a man, i.e., Cal, given that the Sheriff was also male. That was the way things were done, and Gillian felt a little uncomfortable otherwise. On the other hand, she could easily predict what Cal’s reaction would be—to both the general situation _and_ to the Sheriff—and it really wouldn’t help anything.

“Oh, it’s _wonderful_ news, Sheriff,” Gillian began, trying to focus on the positive. Because _parts_ of it really _were_ wonderful.

“Uh-huh.” Sheriff Burke was unusually savvy among the denizens of Eastport and not easily fooled. He glanced between the three of them expectantly. “What’s going on?”

Gillian gave Luke a _look_. If he felt he was old enough to make this commitment, he was old enough to admit to it. Straightening up a little, the teenager began, “Well, Sheriff, the thing is, Emma and I are—“

“Wait a minute. _You_ and _Emma_?!” the sheriff interrupted, suddenly making the connection. “ _Emma_ is the—Hey!” he snapped at Brandon, who was lurking near the door. “What did you say about my daughter?!”

Gillian intervened. “Sheriff, why don’t we sit down and discuss this? There are some important matters that need to be—“

Sheriff Burke whipped around to face her. “Important matters?” He gave his daughter a look of horror. “Are you _pregnant_?”

“No!” chorused three indignant voices, but that probably wouldn’t stop Brandon from spreading a new rumor as he dashed out the door into the street.

“Well _good_ ,” Burke replied gruffly, reddening suddenly in the aftermath of his question. Emma flushed as well. “So, you two are, er, _dating_?” He spat the word out as though it were something unpleasant and fixed Emma with a stern gaze. “I don’t want you _dating_ delinquents who get into fistfights, I don’t care _what_ they’re about!”

Several people began to protest at once. “But I was only—“

“Dad, he just—“

“Sheriff, if you would just let me explain.” Gillian cut through the chatter with her quiet but persistent demeanor. “Let’s all just sit down.”

Sheriff Burke rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what’s so complicated about two kids _dating_ that requires a _conference_ ,” he grumbled, but nonetheless he dragged another chair up to his desk—conspicuously putting himself and Emma on one side, with Luke and Gillian on the other. “Alright, Doc, what is it?”

Gillian had handled plenty of delicate situations in the past. And this was definitely a delicate situation. She tried to pretend that the people she was talking about were _not_ her son and potential daughter-in-law—Cal at least would have applauded her professional detachment. But she had to speak calmly and rationally, and not like an overly emotional mother. Not if she wanted the sheriff to take her seriously.

“Earlier, you asked if our culture had any traditions associated with insulting one’s significant other,” she reminded him as an opener.

“And you said you didn’t,” he reminded right back.

“Well, it’s not exactly a _tradition_ ,” Gillian tried to clarify, though the concept was inherently fuzzy anyway. “But often when two people are _herdaya_ , there’s a certain amount of—overprotectiveness, I guess you could call it, which they have to _learn_ to overcome and—“

Sheriff Burke blinked at her. “Hair-dye-uh?” he repeated blankly. “What?”

“It’s like, being in love,” Gillian tried to explain, feeling incredibly awkward, “only… _more_.”

The sheriff turned to his daughter. “I thought you said you _weren’t_ pregnant!”

“It’s not _more_ like _that_ , Dad,” Emma insisted, blushing furiously. “It’s like—being soulmates.”

“Oh, you have this concept already,” Gillian commented brightly. “That will make things much more clear.”

“What concept?” the sheriff resisted. “Don’t give me this _soulmates_ nonsense. Emma, I thought you were more sensible than that. You, too, Dr. Gillian,” he added.

“Hey!” began Luke with irritation, though at which insult wasn’t clear. Gillian put a hand on his arm to still him.

“You’re telling me,” Sheriff Burke went on, keeping a watchful eye on Luke, “that these two _kids_ say they’re _soulmates_ , when they can’t commit to watching a TV show all the way through, and that this has some special significance to you? You’re _really_ buying this?”

“Sheriff, I don’t know about this whole soulmates concept, maybe it’s not the same thing at all,” Gillian admitted seriously. “But the _herdaya_ is real. The word means ‘heart’ in our language—not just _heart_ , but _soul_ and _mind_ , the best, the dearest, the most secret part of anything, of everything. It’s a connection between two people that doesn’t happen very often. And when it _does_ happen, it can be very powerful.”

The sheriff let this explanation sink in for a moment, but Gillian easily saw that he was still skeptical. “Look, Doc, no offense, but I’ve seen a lot of teenagers who were running away or getting into fights or otherwise getting into trouble because they thought they had found The One and would never feel this way about anyone else, blah blah blah,” he told her, matter-of-factly. “They’re just kids, they wanna go out to the movies together, fine, but don’t ask me to believe in some kinda mystical connection between them, okay?” Luke and Emma were momentarily distracted by grinning at each other, having both noticed her father’s grudging acceptance of their relationship.

Gillian could see she wasn’t going to make any headway on this point and decided to concede it. If there was anything to be seen from it, he’d see it in time. “Alright, Sheriff. But there _is_ something else.” Another meaningful look at her son.

Feeling more confident now, Luke spoke up right away. “Emma and I are promised to each other.”

“ _Promised_?” the sheriff repeated. “What, like to be _married_?”

“It’s what people in our culture do when they’re too young to become engaged,” Gillian agreed, with some trepidation.

But the sheriff didn’t seem especially upset by this news. Instead he just rolled his eyes. “Of _course_ they’re promised to each other,” he muttered sarcastically. “They’re soulmates, right? What else would they do?”

“Well, the two terms aren’t equivalent,” Gillian tried to explain. Obviously he wasn’t grasping the full importance of this news. “People can be promised without being _herdaya_ , and _herdaya_ don’t have to be promised, even if they’re too young to be engaged.” She had a feeling the details were being lost on him.

He did seem to think of _something_ , though, and turned to Emma fiercely. “Just don’t get any ideas, young lady, that I’m gonna give permission for you to get married underage, and your mother won’t, either! And don’t think you’re gonna get the judge to give you permission, either, I go fly-fishing with him every month. You’re just gonna have to wait until you turn eighteen.”

“Actually, in our culture, they won’t be able to get married until Emma’s twenty,” Gillian corrected.

The sheriff grinned suddenly, seemingly much more pleased. “Four years? Well if they’ve got to wait _four_ years, I don’t even know what we’re talking about. They probably won’t even remember each other’s _names_ in four years.”

“Dad!” Emma protested, as Luke’s eyes narrowed.

“This isn’t just a case of two teenagers daydreaming about the future, Sheriff,” Gillian went on hurriedly, before Luke could say anything unwise. “There’s a ceremony involved. There’s certain legal aspects to a promising.”

“Legal?” His eyebrows shot up.

“Well, in the Valley they’d be legal,” Gillian amended, “but here they’re more cultural, I suppose. In a sense, Emma is now considered a member of our family.” And it just occurred to Gillian that she probably hadn’t made the girl feel very welcome just yet—but then again this whole thing _had_ come up rather suddenly. And Cal still hadn’t been informed. And after witnessing _that_ , Emma probably really _would_ need a warm embrace.

“Your family?” the sheriff repeated dubiously.

“Oh, yes,” Gillian nodded. “ _Promised_ isn’t as strong as _engaged_ , of course, but it’s much stronger than merely _dating_. In many ways Emma will almost be considered Luke’s wife already.” The teenagers looked extremely pleased with this scenario; the sheriff, less so. “I said _almost_ ,” Gillian hastened to point out. “Socially speaking, for example. If there were a gathering that was only open to Darkwood members, she would be invited. We would expect that she and Luke would celebrate holidays together, and that she would take some of our classes that all Darkwood teenagers take, preparing them for marriage and teaching them about our history.”

“Well, honestly, Doc, I was expecting you to say something a lot worse,” Sheriff Burke finally told them. “I mean, I suppose classes or whatever would be fine—as long as they didn’t interfere with schoolwork, of course. And I don’t want the two of them to ditch all their other friends just so they can stare gooily at each other, got that?” He directed this rule at both Luke and Emma. “And I will have _very strict rules_ about when and where and how the two of you will be seeing each other.”

“As will we, Sheriff,” Gillian assured him. “Promising, and engagement, are supposed to be times when those involved work _very hard_ to prepare from their future life together. We take it quite seriously.”

“I bet you do.” Gillian wasn’t sure what to make of that remark, but it was obvious the sheriff was done with the whole conversation. She still wasn’t sure he understood all the implications of the information he’d learned today, but maybe it was something that just had to be experienced. Sometimes that attitude prevailed in the Valley as well.

He started to stand, so the others did, too. “Look, I gotta get back to work,” he decided, clearly wishing to avoid further though on the matter. “You two kids stay out of trouble, alright? I don’t wanna see _you_ back here for something like this again, got it?” he told Luke firmly.

“Yes, sir,” the teenager answered promptly. Dismissed, he and Emma hurried away from the office to take a few deep breaths and overanalyze the situation.

Gillian started to follow them, not looking forward to the conversation she was going to have with Cal next. “Uh, Dr. Gillian?” She turned back to see the sheriff with a hesitant expression on his face.

“Yes, Sheriff?” she asked curiously.

“I guess I was just wondering. About that _herdaya_ thing.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “You said it didn’t happen very often, but you seem to know a lot about it. It happen to you?”

“Yes, it did,” she confirmed, not sure what he was getting at.

“With Dr. Orange Light, right? Cal, I mean.”

“That’s right.”

The sheriff nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. When the two of you are together, you’re—just a little bit different than when you’re with the others.” Gillian was slightly taken aback that he had noticed—but then again, he could be quite observant. “But what I just don’t understand is,” he went on, sounding troubled, “if you married your, er, soulmate the first time around—why’d you go and get married to Dr. Eli and Dr. Ria later?”

Gillian smiled. “Because we loved them,” she answered simply, too simply for the sheriff’s liking. “Marrying Eli and Ria was no insult to me or to Cal. No more than adopting Clara was an insult to Luke, or the other children.”

The sheriff just shook his head. “I don’t think I’m ever gonna understand that plural marriage thing,” he confessed.

“Well, keep trying,” Gillian advised. “You may very well need to, someday.”


End file.
